Me and drunk - old friends

"The world's first Pina Colada was supposedly invented in the Hotel Caribe Hilton in Puerto Rico in the 1950s."

I love this fact because it combines two of my favorite things: stupid trivia and booze.

I don't want to give the impression that I'm a lush. I'm not. I just come from a long line of them and so yes I enjoy the occasional alcoholic beverage. and yes one glass a wine a night is occasional especially in light of my more lush-full past. Oh there was lushiness all around when I was younger.

But, I try to keep it in check now. Because me and drunk we had a sordid past together.

The first time I seriously consumed large amounts of alcohol was my last semester senior year of college. Yes, I was a little late to the lush games. It was the one area of my life I seemed to be a late bloomer. What can I say. I was living in the dorms and had made some new friends. We had a hard week and decided to cap it off with a night of drinking and fondu.

This required to illegal acts on our part: underage drinking and an open flame in the dorm room.

The fondu did not turn out so well. The drinks flowed freely though. We had a lot of fun. But, around midnight when I was suddenly in my new friend's Mary bedroom things took an ugly turn. I known this girl for about two hours and we hit it off right away. Felt like we known each other for ever. So, I felt very comfortable to empty the content of my stomach all over her bathroom. It was a lovely introduction.

My less drunk friends had the pleasure of cleaning up after me and then putting me to bed while I lush-fully mumbled apologies, asked to die, and swore to never drink that much again. Not never drink again, just not that much.

My very good, less drunk friends also left me a glass of water outside my locked door so I wouldn't dry heave. Lush logic is a beautiful thing.

Fast forward through my studio guide days where there were a couple more meetings with me and drunk. But, that requires a much longer post and I don't want to bore you to death. So, let's just skip to the 25th birthday, where me and drunk's relationship really changed.

Ah, 25th birthday I decided I wanted to go to a karoake bar because there's nothing more fun than drinking and singing badly. I made two huge mistakes that night. One, I didn't eat a full meal. In fact, before going to the bar the only thing I ate for dinner was a Luna bar. Two, I let everyone buy me a drink of their choosing.

By the end of the night I'd had a beer, a glass of wine, a black russian, a sex on the beach, lemon drop, some chocolaty shot thing, whiskey sour (our waitress got me that and started me on a long path of ordering whiskey sours) and who knows what else. That's all I can remember. So, me and drunk had a joyful reunion.

It was a very fun night. Lots of singing. Lots of dancing. Lots of photos of me with mouth opened up wide as possible as I laughed. And I really held it together until most everyone was gone. My less drunk studio-guide friends who were taking me home were collecting my things and I was not feeling so good.

But, I knew all I needed to feel better was a breath of fresh, cold LA air. Soon as that air hit me I felt better especially when I threw up. Thankfully, E. a true gentleman, stood over me holding my hair back and wiping vomit off of my green doc martins. E. and I have not spoken in a long time for reasons I won't get into, but nothing bonds two people like vomit. I shall forever be grateful to him.

My friends took me home and much drunken mumbling of apologies, pleas for death, and promises to never drink that much again followed.

But, to me the funniest moment was when I got back to my former friend, queen of the damned, apartment. I immediatly laid down on the couch where I would not move from for the rest of the night. Concerned that the only thing on my stomach was a luna bar and whatever alcohol did not end up on the sidewalk in front of the bar, queen of the damned (QOTD) decided I needed a cracker. She stuffed a saltine in my mouth.

I clearly remember thinking I don't have the energy to chew. So, I'm drunk, nearly passed out, with a dissolving saltine in my mouth. Not a pretty picture. Somewhere deep inside me I gathered the strength to swollow that saltine down.

It's amazing what people are capable of in times like these, isn't it.

QOTD also left me a glass of water by the couch. It was still there the next morning.

So, after that I really had to sit down and have a talk with drunk. I explained that yes, we had many good times together. I would treasure them always. But, between the vomit and the saltine and the pleas for death maybe the bad outweighted the good.


Does drunk come knocking on my door sometimes? Sure. Do I open the door and peak out to see how she is? You betcha. But, the visits don't last long. I cut her off. And I think we're both better off that way.

So, now I only drink occasionally. A glass a wine at night. Maybe a martini with co-workers. On occasion a happy buzz, one drink short of drunk, one more drink than "I'm good to drive". It's all about moderation. And avoiding mumbling, drunken pleas for death.

So, raise a glass and cheers,
v.carrie